


perfectly good

by becuille



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Choking, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Gangbang, Id Fic, M/M, Rimming, Snowballing, Verbal Humiliation, alcohol use, bratty sub Alexander Hamilton, im going to church this weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-14 22:20:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16049723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becuille/pseuds/becuille
Summary: “You’re arrogant for a whore, you know that.” Alexander has to hand it to him; Jefferson doesn’t waste any time. “No one takes you seriously on the Senate floor, and the few that still do are in this room. And they won’t after I’m finished with you.”





	perfectly good

**Author's Note:**

> I’m arriving 3 years late to this fandom, but here have some gangbang cake. safewords are dope play safe guys

“You little whore,” Jefferson snarls at him. He’s got a fistful of Alexander’s hair, a hand around his throat and his cock buried in his ass. He’s been fucking him hard enough to leave purple bruises on his skin and to make his head spin. He tightens his grip on Alexander’s neck and he starts to see spots behind his eyes.

Alexander knows there’s got to be healthier ways to deal with the stress of working in the cabinet, but he hasn’t found it yet. So Jefferson’s depraved idea of sex will have to do for now. 

They haven’t even made it out of their clothes since Jefferson got to Alexander’s apartment. He’s sweating through one of his best suits; he plans on sending Jefferson his dry cleaning bill.

Jefferson spits in his face, and Alexander feels so low, like he’s nothing. He’s there for Jefferson to use, nothing more. He’s just a warm, willing body. 

“You were made for this, Hamilton,” he continues, his accent starting to slip out with each brutal thrust. “You love being used like this, don’t you?”

The truth is, he does. Once he fights past the reactive part of him that wants to fight back tooth and nail, he feels drunk on it. The venom Jefferson spits is seemingly never ending, but each insult and sly comment is intoxicating.

“I bet all your army buddies have had a go of you, haven’t they? Did they used to pass you around like a little slut?”

Hamilton can’t help himself, he groans out loud at the thought of it. Jefferson has a way of pressing all his buttons, of finding his deep buried secrets and digging them up. 

In truth, he did used to fantasise about it at night, his cock in his fist, imagining his friends all taking their turns fucking him. He used to think about Mulligan fucking him from behind with Lafayette’s cock in his mouth. Or of John whispering praise and encouragement in his ear, while Washington watches him from afar, stroking himself quick and rough. He used to come so fast thinking about it, moaning his friends’ names into the dim emptiness of his apartment.

Alexander never had the balls to act on it though. He might not have his career if he did.

“Oh?” Jefferson’s interest is piqued. He lets out a long, slimy laugh, and god, Alexander regrets letting himself slip like that. He should know better. Now that he’s found a weak spot he won’t stop pressing and prodding at it until it’s a festering wound. “They actually did?”

“No,” Alexander forces out, trying to keep some of his pride.

“I don’t believe you.” He stops fucking him, pulling almost all the way out, and Alexander whines. “Tell me, did you fuck your way up the ranks? Did the General keep you behind all those late nights so that he could fuck his subordinate? Imagine the headlines, the president’s secret whore. Just wait until I tell James.” 

“Stop it.”

“Or, was it just you that wished they did? Oh that’s it. You wanted them to take turns of you like the slut you really are.”

He grabs Alexander’s face and forces his gaze upwards to stare him down. Alexander’s eyes burn with defiance.

“Shall I have them all over? You’d like that wouldn’t you. Tell me or I’ll stop,” he threatens. 

Alexander is aching for him to just fuck him properly. Jefferson tightens his grip until he feels dizzy. 

“ _Yes_ , please, god. I want it, I’m a whore, please, Jefferson.”

Jefferson slams back in hard enough to bruise, and Alexander groans “Yes, yes.”

  


* * *

  


Jefferson actually hangs around after sex for once. He straightens out his suit and fixes his hair, then makes himself at home in Alexander’s kitchen

“What are you doing next Thursday?” he calls with his head in his refrigerator.

Alexander is inspecting the budding blooms of bruises under his skin in the mirror. There’s already splotches on his wrists and his throat. He’s only a little ashamed that he likes it.

“Why, you’re not asking on a date are you now, Jefferson? It was you that told me not to catch any feelings.”

Jefferson makes an exaggerated expression of revulsion that turns into a full body shudder.

“Don’t joke about such things. You know why. I’ll invite round all your little friends to come and fuck the brains out of you.”

Alexander swallows. He didn’t think he was serious. He was just saying shit that he says when he’s got his dick six inches deep in Alexander’s ass. Like when he calls him his good boy, or promises to go easy on him the next day at work (which is always a lie).

“You’re kidding.”

“Would I jest? It would be easy. Laurens has wanted to fuck you for years. He’s like a lost puppy. It’s sad really. And if I know Lafayette, he’s never been one to turn down a party. They’d be there.”

Alexander’s mouth runs quicker than his brain when he says “Yep, I’m free.” He fears it could be the death of him one day.

Jefferson bares his teeth in a grin.

“Good.”

And that’s it. He leaves Alexander with a farewell spank, stealing one of his apples, then closes the door behind him.

  


* * *

  


Jefferson texts him the address of a grubby hotel a little out of town, and he meets him outside ten minutes early. It’s not quite the Four Seasons, but he can’t really complain. It's probably appropriately sleazy for what they’ve come to do. 

The Secretary of State arrives in a cab five minutes late, and they exchange few words. He leads him up to the elevator, and Alexander’s blood thrums with anxiety and anticipation. If Jefferson has led him on about this, he’s more than ready to run to the press with a slanderous story or other to print. He probably has at least five printworthy stories, more if he included ones that implicate himself too.

Jefferson comes to the stop at the end of the hallway on the top floor.

“Safeword?”

Alexander owes it to him for being methodical. He tests all his nerve points at least every ten minutes when they do rope, and checks his safeword at the start of every scene without fail. 

“Red,” Alexander answers. 

“Good.”

Jefferson backhands him then. It knocks the air out of his lungs, but he tries not to stagger or let his face betray him, barring the blood that rushes to the surface of his skin where Jefferson struck him.

But for Alexander to get what he wants, Jefferson likes to see a little supplication.

Alexander averts his gaze, how Jefferson likes him to, though all instincts tell him to stare him down, or even to fight back. His veins course with it, the urge to hit Jefferson back across his smug face, to mouth back, to tell him to go fuck himself. But Jefferson _has_ gone to the effort to arrange this for him.

“I’m sorry,” Alexander tries in as small a voice as he can force out. It still come out biting.

Jefferson, at least, goes for the other cheek this time. Alexander had already adjusted his weight so he doesn’t get knocked backwards; he was ready for it. He tries to look smaller, so that Jefferson can have the pretense that he’s winning this fight, that he’s subjugated him. Jefferson looms some inches above him, out of his line of sight.

“Colour?”

“Green. God.”

“You’re sorry, what?” Jefferson raises his voice. And just like that he switches back. He’s back to being more like the prick he is in the Senate, not the attentive dominant that showed his face seconds before.

“I’m sorry, _sir_.”

“Get on the ground.” Then when Alexander doesn’t shift immediately, “Now! You know the drill.”

The thought occurs to him that the others, if they’re really there, could probably hear everything on the other side of the door. If any of them got up, they could see this whole exchange through the peephole. So could the other rooms next door. His face burns hot with shame.

He drops to his knees, eyes on the spiral pattern of the carpet. Alexander does know the drill, they’ve done this before. But he still likes to feign ignorance. He has some fight left in him yet. 

Jefferson nudges him with his foot, but Alexander doesn’t budge, so he kicks him a little harder. Alexander imagines John looking out through the lens and seeing him like this, or worse, Washington. So he bends down low to the ground, trying to get it over with so they don’t get caught. Prostrate, he kisses Jefferson’s brown leather brogue, looking up to meet his cold gaze.

Jefferson shrugs himself free of him. 

“Get up.”

Alexander complies.

Jefferson knocks on the door, and it’s pulled open almost instantly, and Alexander follows behind him, eyes still trained on the floor.

“Well well. You know, I was starting to lose faith in you, my dear Thomas.”

It’s Lafayette that speaks first. Of course it is; only the Frenchman would sound so nonchalant in a situation like this. Alexander spots him reclined on a couch, glass of wine in hand, with John close next to him. John doesn’t meet his eye when he looks, and his stomach turns over nervously. 

“I’m a man of my word. On your knees, Hamilton,” he barks at him. Alexander does as he’s told right away this time. Jefferson is showing him off, he realises. His knees creak at the force with which he slams himself down onto the floor. He doesn’t want a repeat of earlier in front of all his friends, men he respects. He wants to show he can be good.

He tries to glance up to see who Jefferson managed to round up. In a seat on the other side of Lafayette is Mulligan, gripping tight enough onto a whiskey glass looks like he might crack it. James Madison is sat on a wide king bed, eyeing him closely. Jefferson is an asshole. He didn’t think he’d have to gall to invite _another_ political opponent.

“You have him well trained.”

Washington is seated in an armchair, his legs and arms spread wide, eyebrows knit. Alexander’s face heats up even more at Washington’s words. He respected Alexander once, but not anymore. Not after seeing him like this, answering to Jefferson, of all people, and obeying his every whim. Jefferson yanks on his ponytail for emphasis, and Madison chuckles darkly.

Last, he notices in the corner of his eye, Burr stood near the door, the very picture of propriety. He doesn’t have a drink in his hand, and he hasn’t even loosened his tie; he wouldn’t be out of place as he is now in court.

Alexander is surprised. If it were _him_ Jefferson propositioned with something like this, he would have laughed in his face. He didn’t expect so many of them to actually show up.

“Aren’t you going to say thank you, you ungrateful little slut.” Jefferson pulls his hair even harder. His Adam’s apple bobs painfully as he cranes to look up at him. 

“Thank you, sir,” Alexander spits out. 

“Not to me.” 

He meets the eye of everyone in the room, and he’s never felt so ashamed. He can feel his dick getting harder already.

“Thank you.”

Jefferson releases him and he staggers forward with a jerk. He leaves him alone on the floor and spreads himself across a couch. He’s left kneeling alone on the floor, all eyes on him.

“You’re arrogant for a whore, you know that.” Alexander has to hand it to him; Jefferson doesn’t waste any time. “No one takes you seriously on the Senate floor, and the few that still do are in this room. And they won’t after I’m finished with you.”

The words sting. There’s enough truth in them about his insecurities to make tears threaten to well up. Is that really what everyone thinks of him? That he’s too mouthy and incompetent to have gotten here on his own merit, so they might as well come today to have a go too?

“Oh now your face is going _red_ , look at the state of you already.”

With the mention of his safeword Alexander snaps out of his little self pitying reverie. He can stop this if he wants, but he doesn't want, he wants to please Jefferson, and everyone else. They’ve all come here just for him. They want him.

He looks up at Jefferson and nods, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to keep going.

“You know, the president had high hopes for you. Once. Look where you’ve ended up. Being passed around in a room of more powerful men.”

“Fuck you.” 

Jefferson always skirts on the edge of the truth to make him feel more than humiliated, almost hurt, and he's so convincing. The tears sting in his eyes.

“How many people did you fuck to even get your job? Ten? Twenty? More? That’s all you’re good for, you insolent brat, bending over and sucking cock.”

“Less than you had to, Jefferson.” Alexander can’t help himself answering back. He’s never had much self-preservation.

“Come here,” Jefferson beckons him, surprisingly calm. “Come on. Let’s show your _friends_ what you’ve been learning.” He spits out friends like it’s dirty word, and smirks down at him from the sofa. He chooses not to fight him and to save his strength, so he crawls to him on his knees across the length of the room.

“I fancy using your mouth. You need shutting up for a bit.”

Alexander reaches up to unbutton him, his erection straining against his pants. He takes it out, and he’s already so thick and hard in his hand. Alexander swallows. He places his lips gently on the tip and rolls his tongue around it, breathing in Jefferson’s heady scent. He’s done this before, he can do it now. It doesn’t matter if the eyes of everyone he cares about are trained on the spot where his mouth stretches wide around Jefferson’s cock.

He takes him in about halfway, slowly, but then Jefferson grips onto his hair and bucks his hips at the same time, and he hits the back of his throat, making Alexander gag with a sick laugh. His fingers dig into Jefferson’s thighs, trying to hold himself back before he does it again.

“Hands behind your back,” Jefferson says in a warning tone, swatting at his fingers, so he does.

He yanks Alexander back down by his hair with only a second to recover, and he gags again. Saliva floods his mouth and tears start to spill over. But Jefferson keeps going, fucking his mouth as far as he can, only stopping occasionally to let Alexander cough and sputter and gasp for breath. 

“I’m gonna come on your pretty mouth,” Jefferson says.

Alexander suddenly yanks his head back out of Jefferson’s grip and pulls off his dick with a wet pop.

“Aww, you think I’m pretty?” He can’t help himself.

Jefferson makes him gag so hard for that he feels like he could be sick. He tries to breathe through his nose and relax his jaw, but he already starts to feel light and far away, like he’s watching himself from the outside. He’s just a body for Jefferson to use as he wants, that includes if he wants to let all his friends to use him too.

It’s not long until Jefferson is stifling a grunt and his hips are jerking up erratically into Alexander’s throat, as deep as he can. Alexander tries to relax himself, letting Jefferson fuck him in earnest, and then he’s already coming. He pulls out just enough to smear some of his come on Alexander’s tongue and his face. He feels obscene, lips swollen and shiny with Jefferson’s come.

Mulligan swears somewhere behind him, and he swallows. 

“Was that it Jefferson?” Alexander’s voice comes out like a croak. “Jeez, I must just be that good.”

Jefferson slaps him again, but it’s worth it. 

“Get over there. Make yourself useful for once.”

He turns away, and freezes. He’s not performance shy; he’s confident in front of a crowd. It’s more like that he’s spoiled for choice.

Lafayette must notice, because he beckons him to join them on the sofa with a smirk and a crook of his finger. 

“You’ve worked hard,” he says. “You can watch for a while.”

He doesn’t know what he might be watching, until Lafayette tips John’s face towards him with a hand under his chin. His lips meet John’s with a wet noise, and John opens his mouth for him immediately. Alexander can’t take his eyes off them. Something in the pit of his stomach burns. It might be jealousy. He and John might have had something once. If it wasn’t clear from him sucking Thomas Jefferson’s cock until his throat was raw, it was clear now that that ship had sailed. 

John mewls into Lafayette’s clever mouth, keening up into his touch on his jaw, then his hip, then to the hand that trails under his shirt. Lafayette leans back into the sofa and John follows, attached to him. He straddles him and Lafayette chuckles into his mouth, low and bright. 

Alexander is getting hard watching them. Now he’s definitely jealous. And Jefferson is looking at him like he can see right through him.

“Take off your clothes.”

He doesn’t want to. John and Lafayette might have seen him naked before, but that was different. Everyone is fully dressed, drinks in hand, and he would be naked without anywhere to hide. He wonders what Washington must think of him already.

“Everyone take note, the day Alexander Hamilton is lost for words. This day might never come again.”

There’s a few chuckles. He flushes hot with embarrassment. 

Alexander undresses fast as his shaking hands can undo his shirt buttons, trying not to pay attention to the eyes of six other men on him. Everyone but John (whose attentions are otherwise occupied) have their focus honed in on him. Or on Mulligan, who’s unbuttoned his pants and is now stroking his erection. Watching him. He’s hard because of him. 

“Eat Laurens out,” Jefferson commands. “Get him nice and wet for le Marquis. Put your mouth to good use.”

John groans into Lafayette’s mouth and starts shucking off his pants and his underwear hastily. He looks back at Alexander, and nods at him, and that’s all he needs. 

Alexander digs his fingers into his ass cheeks and spreads him apart, then presses his tongue to his entrance. John wriggles on Lafayette’s lap, and Lafayette giggles. Alexander wants to be good for him, he wants to make it good for John and Lafayette and all of them, including even Burr. 

John throws back his head and starts to moan loud and wanton, and Lafayette nips down the column of his throat. He starts bucking his hips up, touching himself, and Alexander presses his tongue in deeper, getting him wetter, until John keens up wildly. Lafayette stops Alexander with a tap on his shoulder. 

“Mon amour,”[1] he croons to John. “Don’t you think you should wait for me?”

But it’s too late. John comes over his own fist with a jerk, and Alexander watches him transfixed as his orgasm passes over his whole body. Lafayette cards his fingers through John’s hair, soothing.

“Alexander,” Lafayette calls out to him. “Come here.”

Lafayette offers out John’s dirty hand to Alexander, and Alexander wraps his tongue around John’s slim fingers. He tries to make it good for him, taking one, then two into his mouth, groaning a little as he licks up his come. Once he’s cleaned him up, he places a chaste kiss to the back of John’s hand, while John watches him with his eyes glazed over.

“Maintenant c’est mon tour.”[2]

Lafayette pulls him up for a kiss, and Alexander parts his lips as Lafayette’s tongue presses gently between them. He sucks on his tongue obscenely, and spit and come mix together in their mouths as Lafayette takes it from him.

He pulls John in for a kiss, and John wrinkles his nose as Lafayette passes him his come. “Pour toi, mon chéri.”[3] He spits it out and wipes his tongue, and Lafayette laughs, white teeth gleaming.

John falls back, smile beaming and exhausted already, but Alexander can’t help noticing that Lafayette is still painfully hard, his cock curved up towards his belly. Alexander has dreamed of this before, of sitting on Lafayette’s cock. Back in the war he’d heard stories of his conquests, men and women, and felt a pang of jealousy, or maybe it was competitiveness.

“May I?” he asks, not forgetting his manners. His dick is very lovely, as far as they go, and he wants nothing more than to taste it.

“Be my guest, Alexander.”

Alexander licks at the head of his cock, lapping up precome and dipping his tongue in the slit. Lafayette curls a hand lightly in his hair, then pulls out the hair tie, letting his hair fall free. He pushes it out from his face as he take in more of his prick, hollowing his cheeks as he goes. He makes sure to check his teeth and to swirl his tongue as he takes him in halfway; more courtesy than he usually gives Jefferson at least. He wants to be good for Lafayette, to impress him.

John joins him, apparently rested enough, with a hand on Lafayette’s balls and his tongue licking around where Alexander can’t quite reach. Lafayette groans, loud and unashamed. 

Their mouths meet, and John kisses him around the head of Lafayette’s cock. 

Alexander makes it dirty, letting saliva fall out of his mouth and down the length of his dick, then watching as John licks it up. He takes him in again as far as he can go as John holds his hair back so all the others can see. He gags but ignores it, and manages to go far enough that his nose brushes Lafayette’s belly.

“Can I fuck you now?” Lafayette asks. He used the same gracious tone back in the war to ask for another blanket for his cot. Alexander used to always oblige him, even in the winter months.

Alexander nods quickly.

Lafayette helps him onto his back, then gasps when he presses in lubed fingers and finds little resistance. He’s already well prepared, and he can’t wait much longer. He spreads his legs wider and leans back, making his body longer and more lithe.

Lafayette pulls off his shirt and pushes down his pants, then slicks up his cock. He lifts Alexander’s legs up over his broad shoulders and positions the head at his entrance, teasing.

Alexander wriggles, trying to get him to hurry, but he only laughs at him. He takes his time pushing in just the tip, then pulling it out, with little urgency.

“Allez, je t’en supplie,”[4] Alexander cries.

Finally, finally, Lafayette presses all the way in and fills him up. 

His pace is smooth but quickly becomes relentless. He pauses just for a second once he’s nearly all the way out for Alexander to catch his breath, before he slides back in again so deep. It feels so right, Alexander could nearly forget they have an audience, until John starts kissing and nipping down his neck.

“Tu aimes ça, pas vrai? Laisse-moi t’entendre le dire.”[5]

“Please,” Alexander begs. “God, you feel so good, Lafayette. Please don’t stop.”

Lafayette is watching his erection bounce against his stomach with each thrust. Precome is smeared against his stomach, and Alexander needs to be touched so bad it’s hurting him. 

“Please,” he whines.

“Désolé.[6] It is not like me to be a selfish lover, but the others are still waiting their turn. I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.”

The others. Alexander doesn’t know how much longer he can last. He’s already panting and on the edge from Lafayette’s fucking and John teasing kisses that have trailed down to his stomach. 

“I’m close, my love,” Lafayette warns.

“Inside me, please.”

Alexander wants to keep every last drop in him, for Lafayette to mark him for the others that he got here first. To give them a standard that they have to rise to.

“Bon garçon,” he praises, kissing his forehead, then his hips stutter and his grip on his thighs tightens, and he’s spilling deep into him.

Alexander winces as he pulls out of him. He wanted him to stay in him forever, filling him up so sweetly. John kisses him gently, and it feels more intimate than anything they’ve done so far. It makes him shudder.

But Jefferson doesn’t allow him any reprieve.

“Heel, boy.”

Alexander complies, getting on his knees for Jefferson how he likes him. Jefferson studies him for a second like he is planning what to have him do next. He could make him do anything.

“Tell me what you are, Hamilton.”

“I’m a slut, sir.”

“Louder, for the room. You don’t usually have a volume problem at work.”

“I’m a slut.”

“That’s right, you’re our toy to play with as we wish. You’re not above fucking a cheap, used slut are you, James?”

“Not at all.”

Alexander notices Madison is drunk by the time he joins him on the bed. He stinks of whiskey, his movements are sluggish, and he’s managed to shed his tie and even loosen his top button. It’s the least put together Alexander has ever seen him. Alexander bends over for him immediately. He doesn’t particularly want to draw out fucking Madison for any longer than he has to.

He’s starting to feel Lafayette’s come leaking out of him. Regardless, Madison pours lube down Alexander’s ass and rubs it into him with one thick finger. After being fucked and filled, it’s nowhere near enough. Alexander bites his cheek to stop himself from complaining.

When Madison finally presses in a second, Alexander can’t help himself from bucking back into him on all fours.

“Hurry up,” he snaps. His cock is so hard he can’t wait any longer, not if Madison plans on working him up to three or four fingers. He’s been ready all evening, since he fucked himself open in his bedroom, anticipating tonight. At this pace they’ll be there until the morning. “I hope you’re not as meticulous in bed as you are in your work.”

He hears John snicker. Madison smacks him for that comment, hard enough to make him catch his tongue in his teeth. But the taste of blood isn’t enough to stop him from running his mouth.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I actually have things I’d like to do sometime this week,” he continues.

“You have to hit him harder than that to get him to stop mouthing off,” Jefferson comments, like he might be instructing him on how to break in a flighty horse.

Madison’s palm comes down again on his ass, harder this time. He’s only given a split second to recover from it before he hits him again, then again in the same spot. Madison doesn’t have the temper that he and Jefferson share, or even Washington for that matter. Instead, he hits him quite calmly, over and over with even strength and speed until Hamilton is shaking and his eyes sting.

“Don’t overexert yourself, _James_ ,” Hamilton taunts, his voice shaking. “Think of your health.”

For that Madison presses his face down into the mattress and holds him there to shut him up. He probably deserves it.

Madison rocks into him, then fucks him incredibly deep and dirty until Alexander is trembling and can’t keep his legs held up. He can’t even keep his eyes open, his senses overloaded with the feeling of Madison sliding out then slamming back in deep inside him. Madison keeps him pinned down to the bed by the back of his neck, and his strength is surprising. There’s no way he can move, all he can do is take it. 

Alexander feels almost weightless from losing all control. He couldn’t escape his grip even if he wanted to.

Madison pulls out when he’s close, heaving out heavy breaths and jerking himself until he spills hot come over Alexander’s back and his sore, red ass. 

“You look like a dirty, little whore, Hamilton,” he murmurs in Alexander’s ear as he sits up, the bed groaning beneath him as he stands and straightens his suit pants.

“Oh yeah? You look like a dirty old man, Madison.”

For that, Madison rewards him with another hard slap to his tender ass. He lets out a pained whimper, but Hamilton loves it. He owes it to Madison; he made him ache in all the right ways.

Hamilton rolls over, and spots Burr. He still hasn’t moved, he’s been frozen by the doorway the whole time. He hasn’t lost any clothing or taken out his dick like the rest of them. 

Alexander makes his way over to him regardless; it would be rude to leave him out. He gets on his knees for him, and exhausted and knees red raw with carpet burn, he fumbles for Burr’s fly with clumsy hands. Burr pushes him off.

“Jesus, Hamilton.”

Burr is disgusted with him. Of course he is. Alexander can only imagine what he must look like by now. “No, it’s fine.” Burr’s voice is ice cold and his eyes detached.

“Nevermind him,” Mulligan says. He’s replaced Madison on the bed. “Come back here, Alex,”

Mulligan already has his fly open and pants shucked down to his knees by the time Alexander joins him. His shirt buttons are open and his chest is gleaming with sweat, and his fist is moving rapidly up and down his dick. 

Alexander lies down and lifts his ass up, inviting him, and presses his face into a pillow. Mulligan slides right in with no difficulty whatsoever, making him feel whole again. He lets Alexander do the work for him, and he pushes himself back on Mulligan’s cock as far as he can take him.

“Go on. Jesus, how are you still so tight, Alex?”

He tries to get any friction he can by rutting into the bed sheets, but Mulligan must notice, as he pulls him up by the waist so he’s on his hands and knees. Alexander cranes his neck to look back at him; his forehead is shiny with sweat, and his eyes are trained on the spot where he’s enters him like he’s focused in on a mark.

“Does that feel good, baby? I knew you’d be good, you know. Shit”

Mulligan starts to snap his hips erratically and Alexander writhes beneath him, unable to keep up. He can’t help the noises that come out of him, but he can’t be ashamed of them by this point.

Alexander is starting to lose track of time. He’s dizzy and sticky and euphoric, god he’s wanted this for so long. He’s fantasised about being shared and marked and used, but the reality aches and burns. Muscles he didn’t know he had are spasming in protest and his arms won’t hold him up much longer. But the undivided attention, the give and take, being able to push himself further than he thought possible feels so good.

Jefferson does have some brilliant ideas, when Alexander gives him credit.

“Ass up, sweetheart,” Mulligan chastises.

Alexander adjusts himself and the angle is now just right. His moans go higher in pitch, and Mulligan increases his speed, spurred on by the noise.

He’s getting close to the limit of how much he can take when Mulligan gets close. He pulls Alexander back with a bruising grip on his hips and comes deep inside him. Mulligan collapses on top of him, kissing down the back of his neck, before he pulls out. Alexander can finally get a moment to rest. 

“He’s all yours, sir,” Mulligan says.

But not for long.

“Kneel.” Washington’s tone leaves no room for discussion. Alexander gets up off the bed with great effort and kneels on the floor once again. He positions himself between Washington’s spread legs and averts his eyes in deference. He’s comfortable here, it’s become natural to him to prove his submission like this. But he starts to feel antsy with nerves waiting for Washington to act. 

“Is this what I get?” Washington asks. “Sloppy seconds?” Alexander looks up at his imposing frame. His voice is stern but his face betrays him. He even looks a little amused, his handsome face flushed from his whiskey. “Not even thirds.”

“Sir,” Alexander begins.

Sixth. He got round to Washington last of all. He’s been on the receiving end of his ire before, and if he’s anything like Jefferson in bed, Alexander will be paying dearly for that mistake.

“Shouldn’t your commanding officer have had the first go?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

Washington pulls him off the floor and then tilts his head up to look at him. He kisses him, warm and chaste and with soft lips. He doesn’t seem to care that Alexander is filthy, even when he knows where his mouth has been. He tastes good, like aftershave and sandalwood. Alexander could kiss him forever.

“Good boy. You’ve been so good, Hamilton.”

“You’ll spoil him if you’re soft with him, Mr. President,” Jefferson interjects.

“I think he’s earned it. You’ve always been an overachiever, haven’t you, Alexander?”

Alexander’s head spins with the praise. He’s pleased him. He’s done well. Cool relief washes over him.

“Get up here, my boy,” Washington instructs him. With only a little delay, he scrambles up onto his lap. He feels come slide out of him and onto Washington’s dress pants, and he whines softly. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Washington rubs his finger through it, then holds it out for Alexander, who parts his lips automatically to take it. He starts to unbutton himself and Alexander can’t help but moan. He’s had three cocks in him already and he’s so sore. 

“I don’t know if I can, sir,” he says, pathetic. He could cry. He didn’t want to let them down, least of all the president.

Washington hushes him. 

“You can, you’re so good for me, just one more, Alex. I’m so proud of you.”

His erection bobs against his belly at the praise. He kisses him again, and Washington pulls away laughing when Alexander slips his tongue deep in his mouth, making the kiss rough and dirty. He takes hold of Washington’s thick cock and presses it to his entrance. He can be good, he wants Washington to be pleased with him.

Washington slips right into him without the need for any lube. He fills him up completely, better than Madison or Mulligan did, and Alexander groans long and low when he finally bottoms out inside him. He fits just right in him. His cock is wide enough for him to feel the stretch and just long enough to reach where Alexander needs him.

“God, look at you.”

He’s looking right through him. He normally has no qualms with receiving praise and commendation from the president, but being the subject of his razor sharp focus makes Alexander want to shy away.

Washington lets him fuck himself down onto him at his own speed. While Alexander is thankful for the respite, his trembling legs can hardly hold him up anymore. Washington notices, and so holds him firm by the hips to help him, bouncing him up and down on his lap. His thighs are thick and firm, and Alexander’s red ass stings every time he fucks himself down on him.

Come and lube slips out of him, and Washington smoothes his sweat soaked hair out of his face. He comes inside him with a grunt, his head buried in the crook of Alexander’s neck, pressing butterfly kisses to where his pulse jumps beneath his skin.

“You’ve been so good for us. Shh, it’s okay, you’ve done well.”

Washington’s still seated inside him, his cock pulsing, when he wraps his calloused fingers around him. “Manners, Hamilton,” Washington warns, sterner now. 

“Thank you, sir,” he says with a shaky breath.

“Good boy.”

He’d almost forgotten about his own dick, so when Washington finally touches him he jerks so hard in his hand it’s almost painful. He hasn’t been touched at all yet and he’s been leaking precome all over himself, so Washington’s grip is slick and it feels so good.

“Sir, thank you. Fuck, thank you, thank you,” he rambles.

Alexander comes on his own belly with a pained gasp, gratitudes slipping from his mouth over and over.

He curls into Washington, clinging onto him and breathing him in while his harsh breath starts to slow down. He’s a boneless wreck, and he couldn’t extricate himself even if he wanted to. 

Someone scoops him up from behind and he groans in protest. 

“No, get off.” Washington is warm and firm, and he was happy to drift off in his arms, consequences be damned. 

The person laughs above him. 

“You’re still a little brat after all that.”

It’s Jefferson. Alexander would put up a fight and struggle out of his arms if he had the energy, but he’s boneless and spent.

He places him down on the bed, pulling the sheets up halfway. Mulligan comes over with a warm washcloth and hands it to John to clean him. Alexander moans in protest when he parts his legs to clean the come away. 

“Good as new,” John pronounces.

“I wish.”

Alexander’s thighs ache and his voice is hoarse, he certainly doesn’t feel it. 

Lafayette joins him, pulling the sheets over them. He doesn’t look any less energetic than he did an hour ago. He kisses Alexander’s forehead, then he’s joined by John who wrestles his way between them.

“You’re amazing,” John pronounces.

“Huh?”

“Truly. You’ve done so well,” Lafayette adds.

“Can we promise not to tell another soul about this, gentlemen?”

Alexander had forgotten about Burr. He doesn’t plan on getting out of bed again, so Burr can see to himself. 

John rolls his eyes. 

“Don’t be a bore, Burr,” Lafayette says.

“You don’t think, now…” He doesn’t want to think about it. Tomorrow can be dealt with tomorrow. Washington is there then as if he read his mind, crouching next to him to smoothe the wrinkles from his forehead.

“Sleep, Alex.”

He obeys.

  


* * *

  


The bed is empty when he wakes up. He doesn’t have any idea what time it might be. The curtains block out most of the light; it could be early morning or even late afternoon.

Jefferson is the only one still in the hotel room, he’s lay back on the couch with a book in his hand, reading glasses on the end of his nose. 

“I didn’t know you were far-sighted,”

“Yes, I do have a flaw after all,” Jefferson says, dog-earing his page and setting it down. 

He has a glass of orange juice ready and he carries it over, along with a plate of what looks like shitty hotel buffet breakfast. He smirks at the image of Jefferson amongst fellow hotel guests piling up a plate to take back for him. 

“What time is it?” Alexander croaks, still hoarse.

“2pm. Eat.”

“Is that an order?” he jokes, and Jefferson snorts.

“Don’t start already.” 

The bed dips as Jefferson sits down next to him. He downs the juice and takes the stale croissant Jefferson holds out to him. 

“The others…” Alexander begins once he’s ate.

“Have lives, jobs, households to run. I’ve been left alone with the colossal task of teaching you how to walk again.”

He doesn’t comment on the implication that Jefferson doesn’t have anything better to be doing, though tempted. “Lafayette did send these though, with regards.” Jefferson comes back with a large bunch of white roses in an ornate vase and places them on the bedside table. “How nauseating,” he says with almost none of his normal vitriol. He might even be smiling.

Alexander wants to kiss him. It’s a rare moment, but the urge is so strong he can’t seem to hold it back. He’s very rarely resisted anything, in fact, once he’s wanted to do it. Call it a fatal flaw, whatever. His mouth parts of its own volition and his pulse speeds up as he leans up close enough to feel the hot, electric air between them. Jefferson stays put, making Alexander the one to close the gap between them.

Jefferson’s stubble scratches and he tastes like stale coffee, but his lips are so soft. Alexander sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, trying to consume more of him. He suddenly wants to have licked every crevice of his mouth like no one else has. He parts his mouth wider and slides his tongue against Jefferson’s.

Surprisingly, Jefferson doesn’t pull away. Alexander leans up to vie for power and the thin sheets fall down around him, exposing him, but he doesn’t care. He holds Jefferson in place with a fistful of his hair and kisses him like he’s parched for him, until he elicits a low groan from the other man. 

Alexander finally pulls back, sated for now.

“Disgusting,” Jefferson says, wrinkling up his nose. “There’s a toothbrush in the bathroom. Go brush your teeth.”

“Why, so you can kiss me again?”

“In your dreams, Hamilton.”

Smiling, Alexander does as he’s told.

**Author's Note:**

> 1My love.[return]  
> 2Now it's my turn.[return]  
> 3For you, my darling.[return]  
> 4Come on, I'm begging you.[return]  
> 5Do you like that? Let me hear you say it.[return]  
> 6I'm sorry.[return]
> 
> s/o to my highschool gf who used to speak french to me in bed. my working title for this was god_just_smite_me_down.doc @god if you're out there feel free to take me anytime
> 
> this is all consensual (which makes a change for me) & Burr is the spotter if you squint (or a voyeur if you prefer ig)
> 
> chat to me on [tumblr](http://tailtiu.tumblr.com/) I don't bite often


End file.
